


Mouse In The White House

by ScarletCorvid



Category: Pinky and the Brain
Genre: Gen, Wayback Exchange 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-01 08:48:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18796978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletCorvid/pseuds/ScarletCorvid
Summary: The Brain has a plan to take over the world, starting with the Oval Office. But dealing with the 45th President might be harder than anticipated.





	Mouse In The White House

**Author's Note:**

  * For [asuralucier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/asuralucier/gifts).



> Written for the WayBack Fest for asuralucier, who gave me a fandom I’ve never tried and one of the most fun fest prompts I’ve ever gotten! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. :)

“What are we going to do tonight, Brain?” 

The question didn’t need to be asked every night, but somehow it felt wrong not to ask it. Even if Pinky already knew the answer, there was something nice about hearing it. The words meant that night had really come. Their time. 

“What we do every night, Pinky. Try to take over the world.” 

The Brain hopped out of the cage, scurrying through the hole in the wall that led to his laboratory. Pinky followed, watching him closely. “You got an idea, Brain?”

“I always have ideas,” He looked up at his partner, a slight smirk crossing his pink lips. “But this idea…”

Pinky clapped his hands. “We’re going to rule the world! NARF!”

“Pinky, you haven’t even heard my idea yet.” 

“Don’t need to, you’re a genius.” He smiled back at Brain confidently. “What do I do?”

Brain’s patience seemed to crack slightly, but he was still smiling. “First, you sit down and listen to my idea. Then we’re going to be taking a little trip to Pennsylvania Avenue.” 

“Pennsylvania Avenue?” Pinky blinked. “What’s there?”

“Not a ‘what’, Pinky, a ‘who.’” Brain corrected. “And that ‘who’ is the leader of the free world.”

“We’re going to Kim Kardashian’s house!? Wow!”

The mouse genius clapped a hand to his head. “Pinky? Shut up and listen.”

***

“I dunno, Brain, aren’t they going to notice you don’t match?” 

“This is the Trump administration we’re talking about, Pinky.” Brain picked his friend off of his shoulder and slipped him into the pocket of his blazer. “Besides, humans only see what they want to see. And what they want to see is this Italian three-piece suit I’m wearing.”

“‘Cause they don’t want to see you naked?” The inquiry was slightly muffled. 

“Pinky…” He trailed off, deciding it wasn’t worth the effort to try to explain just what was wrong with that statement. “The suit implies money. Wealth. Status.” 

“Oh.” 

“Now be quiet...we’re going inside.” 

Brain had only used the mechanical body on a couple of missions, but he had the handle the of controls now. His movements were fluid, completely human-like. The only thing that stood out was the very mouse-like head sticking out of the crisp white-collar. If his calculations weren’t right, the project would be over before it ever really begun.

He acted completely nonchalant as the security guard checked him with a metal detection rod. The cloaking system he’d added to the suit hadn’t been a day too soon. Instead of being grabbed by the Secret Service, he was merely glanced over as the guard picked up a clipboard.

“State your business.”

“I’m here to be interviewed for a cabinet position,” He replied confidently.

The guard looked up, pursing his lips. “There’s another position open?”

It was a depressing commentary on the human state of things when a laboratory mouse knew more about politics than someone who actually worked in the White House. 

“Well, can’t say I’m that surprised.” He continued with a sigh, handing Brain a badge. “Two halls down, make a right. Third door. And good luck. Though I would have a Plan B even if you get it. Especially if you get it.”

With a polite nod of his tiny head, Brain continued down the hall. There was much hustling and bustling through the hallways of the White House, but an intelligent observer couldn’t help but note the lack of intelligent sparkle in their eyes. They seemed dull and stomping around in their own robot suits. That was exactly the advantage he was hoping for, to catch them off guard by being the only intelligent person in the building.

When he opened the door that had been indicated by the security guard, Brain found himself being stared at by four other people wearing business suits and serious expressions. 

“Are you here for an interview?” A tall brunette woman in a severe navy suit asked Brain. “If I recall, the meeting was supposed to be at two. You’re early.”

“I wanted to get a sense of what this place is really like before the interview started.” He answered smoothly. 

“And your name?”

“Brain. Brain Albert.” 

Of course, he didn’t have a last name and usually he was reffered to as THE Brain, but he felt that the combination of his name and the first name of another great genius had a psychological edge that the pundits would not be able to resist. 

“Uh-huh.” The woman made a note on the pad in front of her and motioned to the seat across the table. “Sit, please.”

“What are your qualifications?” A dark skinned young man settled in beside the woman. “Where did you go to school, et cetra?” 

“Are you actually looking at this guy?” An older man with an impressive head of silver hair sat on the other side of the woman. 

“Yeah,” The other man grinned. “I like his suit. Italian, right?”

“Imported, of course,” The Brain demured with a slight nod.

“I’m Mark,” He introduced himself, seeming to grant his approval based on male fashion choices alone. “She’s Sarah, and he’s Regan.”

“Like the president,” Regan announced, the touch of pride obvious in his voice. “But that doesn’t matter...because you’re not a candidate for this job, Mr. Albert. If that is your real name.”

Mark snorted. “Easy Regan, let’s hear this guy out first before we show him the door.”

“Look at him!” He pointed towards Brain. “His head...it’s...he’s not human.”

“I find that comment offensive,” Brain replied calmly. “At least my head contains a working brain, unlike most of your current administration. Why do you think you can’t keep anyone employed here? They don’t have enough brains to do their jobs, so they make it necessary to show them the way to the curb. They bring the ship down. How will you ever beat the competition in 2020 if you don’t fill the president’s ears with the voices of people who actually use their brain?”

“Well, he’s hired.” Sarah dropped her pen and looked up at The Brain. “Can you start right away?”

“Wait...what?” Regan blinked. “He’s obviously not human! LOOK AT HIS HEAD! He’s a mouse with some sort of weird...human body...thing.”

Mark rolled his eyes. “Come on, Regan, don’t be silly.” 

“He’s hired.” Sarah stood her ground. “I’ll give you two reasons.” She held up one finger. “Reason the first, him looking different is going to give us the apperance of more diversity.”

“And I am sick of being the only person around here that isn’t an old white dude.” Mark sighed deeply. 

“Um...hello...I’m not a dude. Or old.” Sarah pointed out, then flicked up a second finger. “But we also need Mr. Albert because he’s the only one who applied for the job. And the President...has been less than helpful with his choices for the position.”

“Did you at least vote for him?” Regan snapped at Brain. 

Brain smiled serenly. “Of course I did. The thought of having anyone else for my president makes me sick.”

The older man seemed to think about it for a few minutes, frowning deeply. “Can we at least let the President meet him before we start filling out the paperwork?”

“I would welcome an opprotunity to meet the man who is going to make America great again.” The Brain offered a beautific smile. 

In his pocket, there was a muffle of protest. Brain tapped his pocket, reminding his partner to be silent. As hard as it was to talk so glowingly about the Idiot-In-Chief, it would be impossible to get close to Trump without pretending to be a fan.

“Let’s go to the Oval Office,” Sarah suggested, rising from her chair. “You might as well start learning your way around here.”

The foursome made their way through the halls of the White House. It was hard not to admire the historical surroundings. It was too bad there were some decorating changes in the near future. History was good, but some of the choices made by the First Lady lacked in the aesthetic department. The paintings would remain, but noveau rich was about to be a thing of the past in these halls.

If he didn’t deplore the man’s policies so much, meeting the President might have been an exciting thing for The Brain. He gave himself a brief pep talk as he was escourted into the most famous office in the whole world. Keep it in check, Brain, don’t let him know you think his IQ has great competition from a carrot.

Sarah stepped in first, then waved the two men and Brain into the room after a few moments. He let Mark and Regan come in before him, then followed at a casual pace. Stopping in front of the desk, he looked into the eyes of Donald Trump, the 45th President of the United States.

“Is this our new cabinet member?” Trump asked, not bothering to look up from his paperwork. 

“This is, Sir.” Sarah moved beside Brain, smiling brightly. “Mr. Brain Albert, please meet President Trump.”

“Brain? Your name is Brain?” The President looked up. “You’re Brain Albert?”

“Yes, Sir. That is my name.”

Trump leaned back in his chair and cracked his knuckles. “You’ve done it this time, Sarah. How did we get so lucky?”

“Sir, with all due respect…” Regan began. “Don’t you notice something...different...about Mr. Albert?”

“He has a name that will inspire confident from voters. Brain. Brain Albert. Like Albert Ernstien, the world’s greatest genius.” Trump waved his hand at Mark, looking pleased. “Get on the phone, please, and tell Carl Sagan not to come in. We’ve got our man.”

“Sir...Carl Sagan passed away in 1996. We’ve discussed this, remember?” Mark’s voice was strained with attempted patience.

“Then we won’t need to call him.” Trump tented his fingers, looking at Brain with a big smile. “We’ve got a new guy in town to handle education...and he’s got the name of a winner.”

“And the head of a mouse! Look at his head!” Regan suddenly called out. “His head is all wrong on that body!”

Trump frowned a little, squinting at Brain and cocking his head to the left like a confused dog. “He’s a little pale, but his head deformity will be a great addition to our team. Diversity. It’s going to be great. We’re going to have such a diverse team now.”  
“That’s exactly what I was thinking!” Sarah smirked triumphantly in Regan’s direction. 

“Why do I even bother?” The old man muttered, moving towards the back of the office to drop down into a couch. He tried not to make his sulking obvious, but it was clearly what was going on. Brain had a feeling it wasn’t the first time.

“So, Brain, what do you think we need to do to get the education system back on track?” Trump asked his new hire. 

Brain answered immeidately. “We need to elminate all of the people who are not using their brains for the greater good of this country. Ignorance and stupidity can no longer be tolerated. We’re only as strong as the weakest person, whether it be in this office or this nation.”

“You’re hired.” Trump nodded and reached to shake Brain’s hand. “And you didn’t even have to go on the Apprentice to hear me say that, how about that?”

“I’m a lucky, lucky man, Sir.” Brain agreed, reaching out to shake hands with the President.

As they shook hands, Pinky opened the velcro latch in the bottom of the blazer pocket. He slid to the floor, holding a device in his hand that looked very much like a pin. Scampering under the desk, he waited for the signal.

“Yes, well, don’t forget that. And we’ll make this a great partnership. It’s going to be great.” Trump settled back down in his chair and nodded. “Feel like getting started right away? After all, there’s a lot to be done. So much to be done.” 

“Actually, I would like to head home for the evening, so I can prepare my affairs.” The Brain answered, forcing himself to be polite. Politeness wasn’t natural to him. 

Pinky slowly began to climb up the back of the President’s chair, hoping there were no cameras on him at the moment. He was fast, standing on tiptoe at the back of the chair for just a few seconds before driving the pin-like device home at the base of the leader of the free world’s neck.

“Oh, well, that’s…YOW!” Trump yelped and grabbed the back of his neck. “Must be some bugs in here…” 

The Brain waited until he felt the weight of Pinky in his pocket again and nodded. “Well, Sir, I will be back first thing tomorrow morning.” 

“Yes, yes, bring McDonald’s, if you can?” Trump asked with a slight smirk. “Great way to start a new job. With a sausage McMuffin. It’ll be great. The best.”

“Of course.”

Brain had to resist the urge to turn and run away down the hall. If he stayed too much longer around the President, he was afraid his IQ might lower and his language capabilities would suffer. Besides, the first stage of the mission was over. Now it was time to really get to work.

***

The next morning The Brain arrived bright and early to the Oval Office with a bag of fast food in hand. The President accepted the bag without greeting and looked through the contents. 

“Didn’t you get anything for yourself? Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, you know.”

Brain tried not to look surprised that Trump seemed to think that a half dozen Sausage McMuffins and three hashbrowns were only enough for food for one person. He cleared his throat, tried to put on the charm. “All the more reason you can’t be hungry, Sir.”

Trump looked mollified and began to eat his way through the bounty of greasy dollar-menu delights. The Brain had to find things to look at besides the President. He would suggest that the Commander in Chief ate like a pig, but pigs tended to chew their food. 

Reaching into his pocket, Brain fingered the small remote control. One press of the button under his mechanical finger and the world would never be the same. In a better way, of course, how could it not without this bumbling fool at the helm? The Brain would be the best leader the United States had ever known. But first, there was a matter of emptying the seat for him to fill.

Click. 

When Trump finished eating, he looked up at Brain with slightly glazed over eyes. “You know, Brain, you’re the only person around here with an ounce of common sense. So how about this...you have your official position, for the press, the books. But you are going to help me get this country fixed up. How’d you like that? Let me tell you, it’s going to be great.”

“That sounds like an excellent proposition,” Brain conferred. “Do you have any ideas?”

“Close all of the borders.” The President answered immediately. “It’s time we put America first.”

“I think that’s an excellent idea, Sir.” 

“The press conference is at noon. I’d like you to be there.” 

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” A tiny smirk crossed the face of the President’s new top advisor.

***

“It’s a bold move, but it makes sense.” The Pundit announced on the television that night. “For too long we’ve been carrying the weight of the world. President Trump is giving us permission to concentrate on building an America worth being proud of.” 

Next channel. 

“I think it’s about time we put our country first,” A woman on Fox News was saying. The Brain was sure she had a name, but it was hard to remember when they had roughly twenty-three blonde women who looked enough alike to be clones. “And Trump is giving us just that. A new beginning for our fine nation.”

“What is wrong with these people?” Brain muttered to himself, flipping through the channels irritably. 

“Brain, I thought closing the borders was going to upset everyone,” Pinky questioned, scratching his chin. 

“It was supposed to…” The Brain sighed. “But everyone seems to think it’s a wonderful idea. I guess we’ll have to try something different tomorrow. More...sinister, perhaps?”

***

“In the second bold move in two days, President Trump has announced that he will be implementing strict new commerce laws to help bring America to a new state of peace and prosperity. While there are some detractors, overall his approval scores have been trending upwards in the last forty-eight hours.” 

Switch the channel, try to control the growing rage.

“Twenty-five percent tax on all income and purchases may seem stiff,” An older man who looked constipated droned on to the camera. “But in the end, it will mean this country survives and even thrives. Think of how life would be without deficit, without burdens. This move is simply brilliant, and no doubt is going to be a huge part of President Trump’s legacy.”

“You know, Pinky, I once thought that people couldn’t get any stupider.” The Brain sighed and switched the TV off. “And then Trump was elected...and everyone in this country got progressively stupider by the second.”

“So...they must be pretty stupid now, eh Brain?” Pinky chuckled. “Poor fellows. NARF!”

“No.” He threw down the remote. “They are not poor fellows! They have forgotten how to think for themselves. Whatever he says, they follow along like...like mindless sheep!”

“All of them?” 

“Most of them. Too many of them.” 

Brain sighed, shaking his head. Somehow he had to get Trump to do something even more outrageous, something so abominable that people would be calling for his impeachment. Or, at the very least, his resignation. 

If there was anything that could get his supporters to notice that the Emperor had no clothes. 

The idea came to him over the next few hours as he surfed the internet. The problem with the prior two attempts was allowing there to be even a scrap of logic or reason in what was being done. It had to be something that had absolutely no way of helping the country. Or being perceived as helping the country.

Three strikes and Trump was about to be out.

***

“You really think this is going to work?” The President glanced over the Brain’s proposal. “This is what we need to make America great again?”

“I believe it with complete certainty this is the final step needed to make this country everything you want it to be, Sir.” Brain nodded. “And who else knows better than what this country needs than you? Advising is one thing, but I would never presume to tell you how to do your job. So why should anyone else? True intelligence is knowing when to turn things over to the experts.”

Stroking the Presidential ego like that made Brain want to vomit. But he could tell by the look on Trump’s face that the appeal to his worst nature had been successful. The Commander in Chief preened a bit, looking quite pleased with himself.

“You truly are a smart man, Brain Albert. And even though things are about to change, I’m not going to forget about this. I need all the good men I can get.” Trump lowered his voice a little. “Though maybe not good women. Between you and me, Brain, there’s some better things they could be doing...and it’s not serving in this administration.”

Brain forced a smile and nodded. “I appreciate it, Sir.” 

“You’ll be at this press conference too?”

“Wild horses couldn’t drag me away.”

A momentous plan needed a momentous setting. At the White House, there was no better place for history-changing news than the Oval Office. As Brain and the other cabinet members stood off camera, President Trump settled behind his desk and looked into the camera. 

“My fellow Americans now is the time to seize our destiny as a country. In the past week, we’ve made great strides to putting America first and making it a great country once again. Though some of the changes require sacrifices, I have no doubt that the great American people will go along with whatever we need to make this a country that will be great again.”

Brain sighed inwardly. He should have written the speech too. 

“As of this time, America will be under martial law. This may seem like a dangerous decision, even an illogical one, but as the father of this great nation, I must take care of our American family. Without the worries of crime or free enterprise, we can work together in the coming days and weeks to make this country a place that we can be proud of again. So please, go home and let me take care of you...all of you.

Stay tuned for further updates. Within forty-eight hours, I will have more information on the next phase of this plan. In the meantime, enjoy some time off and start planning your new life, once we have worked together to make this country great again.”

The cameras clicked off and Sarah ran up to the President. “That was amazing, Sir. A speech that will be remembered for years to come.”

“Better than Obama could have done it?”

“Obama would never have done it like you.” Mark replied dryly.

“Well, now let’s wait to see what the media says,” Regan rubbed his balding pate. “This is a bold move, Sir, but this just might pay off more than we ever would have guessed.”

“Might? You’re kidding me, right?” Trump snorted. “This is gonna be great.”

***

“You can’t assume that he doesn’t know best for us,” Another one of Fox New’s myriad of clones was saying the next morning. “Why else would he have been elected? You can’t pretend that this is all just an act of people voting. God brought us Donald Trump because this is what our country needs. A patriarch. One worthy of the Old Testament.”

“But martial law?” An older man sitting next to her sighed. “I have my concerns about that. Not about Trump’s decisions to invoke it, of course, but how some of the people on the liberal side of the aisle are going to take this. They want to tear apart our country from within and they’ve never had better motivation to do so now.”

Brain smiled, tenting his fingers. “Yes...yes…exactly.”

“But Paul, President Trump knows best.” The blonde shook her head. “I think we’d all do well to remember that in the coming days.”

“Ugh.” Brain switched the channel.

“President Trump is going to go down as one of the greatest Presidents in American history.” A dark-haired young man was telling the camera with a disturbing amount of intensity. “He has the bravery to do what is best for this country and he doesn’t care what anyone else thinks of it. That’s the kind of person we need in charge.”

“Ignoramous.” He switched the channel again.

“In four hours, there will be another press conference, this time with hand-picked representatives of major networks and publications in attendance. They will be allowed to ask questions, though the list of allowed topics is very short.” The anchor shuffled the papers on her desk. “In other news, Trump’s approval ratings have reached the 90s, a feat that no president has ever achieved in the history of the United States.”

Brain threw the remote at the TV. It bounced off the screen and landed on the floor. He got up from his seat and kicked it, unable to believe what he was hearing. Just how many active brain cells were left in America?

***

Four hours later, The Brain was standing just off the podium in the Rose Garden. It was a beautiful day for an outdoor press conference, even if it was a total sham. He looked over the list of allowed topics himself and there was no way for the reporters to ask any hard hitting questions. It was obviously being staged as a victory lap for the President.

It was everything he could do not to roll his eyes as Trump mounted the little platform to the strains of ‘Hail To the Chief.’ Chief baffoon, maybe. He couldn’t wait for this day to be over. A week with Trump had felt like a decade. The sooner it was over, the better. Hopefully completely over, so he could start the next phase of his plan to take over the world.

“Thank you, thank you,” Trump bellowed into the microphone, though there were no cheers. “I am honored to be here to share the latest details of my plan to make America great again. First things first, I appreciate the patience and sacrifice of the American people. To get somewhere, first, you have to stop and figure out where you want to go. But rest assured, I know where we’re going. Let me be your GPS. And we will-”

The President was cut off by a popping sound, grabbing his neck and jumping off the podium. People began to scramble in every direction and screams filled the air. The Brain moved closer to Trump, his heart beating rapidly. 

“Sir?”

The leader of the free world was clasping his neck, a small trickle of blood running through his fingers. “What...what happened? Why am I out here?”

“You were shot, Sir,” Mark swooped in from the side and tried to pull Trump’s hand away from his neck. “Looks like...it’s a flesh wound. Thank God.”

“Flesh wound. FLESH WOUND!?” Trump yelled. “The President of the United States should never have a flesh wound! And why am I out in the Rose Garden?”

“Sir..” The Brain stepped forward. “I think it’s best you come inside.” 

As horrible of a human being as Trump was, Brain felt bad. He hadn’t meant for someone to try to assassinate him. But at least now he might have a chance at getting rid of him. Maybe if they could convince him he’d always be in danger, he’d leave quietly. 

“Who are you?” Trump demanded. 

Uh-oh.

“I’m Brain Albert, your advisor.” 

“I don’t remember hiring you,” The President huffed. “And that still doesn’t explain the Rose Garden.”

Mark stepped in. “You were giving a press conference, remember Sir? About martial law?”

“Martial law?!” Trump turned on Brain. “Was this your idea?!” 

“Well, Sir, you did ask for some suggestions-”

“Donald Trump never asks for suggestions!” The President moved his hand away from his neck and frowned. “What’s this? This...pin? What did you do to me, you mouse-headed freak?”

“Sir, those comments are really bad for diversity scores.” Mark reminded him. 

“I don’t care!” He wheeled on Brain. “You’re fired!”

The Brain shrugged. He turned and started to walk away, ignoring the rantings of The President. His plan may have failed, but it was a small price to pay for not being around Trump another day.

With all the chaos still going on around them, and the Secret Service trying to find who had fired the shot at the President, it was easier than it normally would have been to slip away. It was a good thing, too, he had a feeling that if there hadn’t been an assassination attempt there might have been another arrest to add to his record. Not that they could have kept him behind bars, but losing his suit would have been a real setback.

Once he was clear from the White House and back out on the street, he paused at the first mailbox he found. Pulling a manila envelope out of his coat, he smirked. Even if he hadn’t been able to bring down Trump in a way that allowed The Brain and Pinky to take over the world, he could at least make sure the man wasn’t elected for a second term. 

And tomorrow night, he and Pinky could start over again.


End file.
